


Why Can't I?

by BlueStarAngel



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Coming Out, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueStarAngel/pseuds/BlueStarAngel
Summary: My take on events that follow the Pride episode





	Why Can't I?

The plethora of colour flashed before his eyes. His head felt dizzy with the spinning sensation as it felt like someone was rotating the earth at a million times it’s normal speed. There was a sparkle of glitter and reflected light making his vision even blurrier still. The sound of the rhythmic beat of the music was only drowned out by the shrieks and shouts of delight from the crowd. The faces all blurred together; just a mix of face paint and shine. He was trying to find a face in the crowd, but his mind wouldn’t let him focus, wouldn’t let him breathe for one second and he started to panic. The glittery light became too bright, shooting painfully into his eyes and the boom of the base felt like someone was punching him in his heart. It was too much.

Then it all stopped with a touch on his hand as soft fingers gripped his and gently stroked. The world stopped turning. There was only silence around them and only one vision he could see. Ben.

“Remind me never to drink a cocktail with ‘Tina’ measurements again!”

Callum sat up with a start and looked around, his eyes were blurred and his mind was addled and confused. There was flowery wallpaper surrounding him and though a gentle breeze was wafting naturally through the half open window, he still felt clammy beneath the large duvet.

Of course it had been a dream, though the real memories of Pride last night certainly played an important part. He couldn’t deny that it had been an emotional evening and his senses had gone into overdrive and now in his slumber his brain was trying to deal with the overload.

Whitney was sitting at the dressing table looking at him expectantly. “What?” he mumbled, the sleep still heavy in his voice.

She laughed cheerily, “Look at the state of you and all! How many did you have? Perk of the job I suppose. I swear there was about five shots of rum in each daiquiri. Kathy will be fuming when she does a stock take!”

In truth, Callum had only been sipping on a pint for most of the night, between serving punters and collecting glasses. His head was truly fogged up, but alcohol had played no part.

“Probably had a few too many, yeah,” he said, forcing a smile to his lips. It almost shocked him how easily the lie came to him, how natural it felt. It was becoming a force of habit, yet the sting of guilt plagued him every time his duplicitous lips opened.

“Aww, did you see Bernie, though?” Whitney said scrunching up her nose in delight, as she started to brush powder on to her face. “She was well getting into it! Ain’t it nice that she can finally feel like herself?”

“Yeah, she’s a nice girl,” Callum replied, as he felt his skin become clammy again. He didn’t know what he felt about Bernie. A part of him was genuinely pleased to see her happy. He didn’t know her that well, but she’s always seemed lovely. Another side of him, a deep down guttural pinch, felt angry at her. She was just a kid, but it was so easy for her to be herself. He saw her family there as well, joining in and supporting her. He hated himself for the jealously he felt towards a young woman.

“Did you see Ben?” Whitney asked, quickly drawing him out of his thoughts.

“What? When?” he responded, hoping she didn’t notice the quiver there. He always felt so tongue tied whenever anyone spoke about him. Whitney spun around and looked at him like he was mad.

“At Pride, where else?” she said, chuckling again at his lack of clarity. “I hope Kathy didn’t spot how much you were drinking. I just thought he would have made more of an appearance as it’s his mum’s place.”

“Yeah, he was there. I mean he wasn’t,” Callum stumbled. “I mean he was there for most of it, but then disappeared before you got back.”

Callum had noticed his absence. He’d spend most of the day lingering in the corner of his eye. Dressed all in dark colours, he tended to stand out in the crowd, strangely enough. That was just part of who Ben was though. He zigged when everyone else seemed to zag. Callum had worked so hard at not catching his eye, though he failed on a few occasions. The fear that Stuart may come back, meant he resisted most of the time.

“Oh well, you know what he’s like; he’s pulled and gone off somewhere, ain’t he?” Whitney said, the slight disdain in her voice evident. “Knowing Ben, it probably wasn’t even someone in the bar. He probably had a match on one of those sites. He could have the guy of his dreams standing right in front of him and he wouldn’t see him for swiping on his phone.”

That creature lurking in Callum’s stomach reappeared again. He knew Whitney had a point. Ben wouldn’t have just left for an early night; it would only have been to meet with someone. Why did that make his stomach feel knotted? Ben was a single bloke, he was allowed to go and shag anyone he pleased.

The why, couldn’t he stop thinking about him? Why was he now in his dreams as a calm, anchoring presence? Most people would burst out laughing if you mentioned ‘calm’ and ‘Ben Mitchell’ in the same sentence. Yet, after his dad left the other day, Callum was a mess. He felt like the world had fallen out from underneath him. Ben managed to stop that feeling. He fixed him, even for just a little while.

“Right, well Mick’s offered me a shift at the pub,” Whitney said as she packed her make up away and stood up. “Every little helps, don’t it? Towards the wedding, I mean. I know it’s not gonna be Harry and Megan levels, but we still want a nice do that we’re gonna remember for the rest of our lives.”

“Of course, Babe,” Callum replied, as his shoulders dropped. They did that everytime the wedding was mentioned, like an invisible weight that just kept on being piled on.

Whitney gave him a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek and he tried his best to put on his best smile. It disappeared as soon as the front door closed. He didn’t lie to Staurt yesterday, he really did love her. She was the sweetest, kindest girl he could have even hoped to meet. When she kissed him he wanted to feel that spark, that burning electric pulse coursing through his veins. However, it always felt nice and comforting instead. That used to be fine, he used to think that was all there was and anything more was just the stuff of love songs on the radio, and sappy movies.

When he kissed Ben though he felt alive. He realised that during his time on the Square nothing had been real. It was all just a mirage, a play at life; he wasn’t really there, he wasn’t really feeling. His body was here, and he moved about like everyone else, sharing laughs in the Vic and chats in the caff. How did he not realise he was just a facsimile of a soul? When Ben touched his face with his hands, when he drew his lips to his own soft ones, when their fingers gripped each other, it was like being awoken from a dream. The tangibility of pure flesh and hot blood running through both their bodies and their hearts crashing against their bones. There was an invisible pull between them, at least at his end.

Callum felt the sudden urge to see Ben, to be in his presence. It was like food for his soul. He could be a prick when they were in public together and sometimes even when they were alone, but Callum could see feeling in his eyes. He could see another lost soul who’d been woken.

The Square was quiet for the time of day, but Callum assumed most residents would be staying in and nursing a few sore heads from the previous day’s revelries. He sat on the bench trying to draw up courage to make his way to the Beale’s house. He never had been good with words, and he honestly wasn’t sure what excuse he would come out with once he was there. Especially if it was the whole family sitting in the lounge. He didn’t really fancy blurting out his feelings whilst Ian Beale was munching on a bacon sandwich.  
The breeze still continued relentlessly, tingling his face. A flash of colour caught his eye as a discarded rainbow flag blew merrily across the square towards the car lot. Callum followed it with his eyes until a sparkle of shine replaced his gaze. There was a light coming from the portacabin window.

Callum took a deep breath and started walking, the wind almost pushing him along in haste. There were no signs out, the blinds were shut and the door seemingly locked. It didn’t look like it was open for business. Plucking up his nerve he knocked on the door. There was only silence.

It was no use, he might as well go back home or go find Whitney in the Vic and enjoy a drink on his day off. He started to turn away when he heard the creak of the door open slightly, but no one appeared. Perhaps it had been accidentally unlocked and he’d pushed it off its catch when he knocked. He tentatively approached the door and saw that the light was on. Lifting his hand and opening the door fully he could see that the cabin wasn’t empty. Sitting on his chair, with his feet on the desk and a bag of frozen dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on his face, was Ben Mitchell.

Callum quickly entered the cabin and closed the door. He took in the scene around him. A bloodied shirt was tossed in the waste bin, half hanging out. There were reddened bandages and a half empty bottle of vodka scattered on the floor.

“What happened?” Callum asked walking closer to the desk.

“I fell off the end of a rainbow. Tricky things,” Ben replied, though his voice was muffled under the bag and was nasally in tone. “Happy Pride!”

“Ben!” Callum exclaimed in frustration. It annoyed him when Ben did this. He was obviously hurt and trying to make a joke. He lost his patience and went over to the chair and lifted the frozen bag off his face, perhaps a little too forcefully.

“Aghh! It’s a good job your clients are dead when they get to you, with that bedside manner,” Ben said, coughing a little as he swung his legs off the desk and sat up. He grimaced and gingerly held onto his side.

Now Callum could see the full extent of Ben’s injuries. His eyes were badly blackened and thick dried blood still stained his nostrils. He was hunching over and unable to sit up properly. Callum recognised the injuries, he’d seen them a hundred times before. This didn’t happen from falling down the stairs or a drunken fight at the end of the night. This was a beating. This was an attack.

He moved Ben’s phone out of the way, perched on the edge of the desk and looked down at him. “Who did this?” he asked, so quietly he wondered if the other man had heard him.

“Hook up gone wrong. Apparently my face was just too pretty as it was. Can’t blame them really,” Ben answered, grabbing the frozen nuggets back from Callum. He lifted his shirt to place them on his ribs, before deciding it was too painful and pulled the clothing back down. Callum saw the evidence though. The mottled purple swimming with bile yellow. It made his own stomach churn.

“Why’d you do it? Why did you just leave to meet some guy who would do this to you?” Callum asked as a sound beeped behind him.

“Well, there wasn’t much to keep me hanging around was there? Trying to flirt with a stranger while your mum’s handing him his change ain’t exactly the best move. Why? D’ya miss me?”

“What if I did?” Callum responded before he even knew the words left his mouth. He grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled the bag of nuggets out of it and threw it on the floor so he could see his face. Slowly, he linked his fingers through Ben’s, afraid that if he did it too quickly then the other man would pull away. He settled his thumb on Ben’s wrist, feeling the pulse race through there.

The beep sounded again behind him. “What is that?” Callum asked curiously, something feeling unsettled in his mind.

Ben squeezed his hand in reassurance. “It’s just my phone. It’s probably Lola after Lexie’s lunch. I’ll try to mop the blood stains and footprints off the nuggets before I get home.”

“Your phone’s here,” Callum replied, pulling his hand away and reaching for the model on the desk. He got off the surface and headed towards where he thought the beeping came from. Ben was soon after him, though he was clearly sluggish from his injuries.

“Then it’s probably a client that’s left it here by mistake,” Ben replied hastily, trying to grab his arm to pull him back. Callum knew something was wrong. He knew Ben was lying to him and he knew he had to find that phone. Both men stilled as the beeping started again. It was coming from Ben’s jacket that had been thrown on the floor.

Callum picked it up. The dark material was stained even further with patched of flaked red. He turned around to face Ben who was now leaning against the wall with a resigned look on his face. What was he hiding from him?

Patting down the pockets, Callum hit against something hard. He reached in and pulled out the phone, surprised to see that it looked so familiar. He pressed a button and an unread text appeared.

_micks given me a double shift. think of the money. love you xx_

The name read Whitney. This was his phone. Callum left out a breath he was holding and smiled. He had been afraid that it would be a phone of some guy Ben had been with, or Ben was doing some shady business that would get him in trouble with the law and needed a second phone.

He looked at Ben, who was still leaning against the wall with his face lowered. Callum didn’t understand.

“I’ve been looking for this,” he said cheerfully, though the air in the room didn’t feel joyful. “Where’d you find it?”

Ben looked up at him and stared at Callum for what felt like the longest time. It wasn’t lust filled, but something reproaching on regret. It was like he was having an argument in his own mind about what to do next.

“In the Arches,” Ben finally replied and then tipped his head back as his breathing became laboured.

Callum didn’t understand, he’d had it yesterday at The Prince Albert and hadn’t gone anywhere near the Arches since then. He opened up his messages; there were a few from Whitney, one from Jay and one from Tina thanking him for yesterday. There was also one from Ben that was delivered late last night.

_I’ll be there in 5 x_

  
It made no sense. He scrolled back and saw a message that he had no memory of sending. He glanced up at Ben who was now looking back towards him as if willing him to understand.

It clicked. And his world fell apart yet again.

“No,” Callum said, his voice catching in his throat at the thought. “He wouldn’t.”

“Well the stabbing pain in my side says otherwise.” Ben replied, a hint of annoyance now creeping through. “It turns out that Big Brother isn’t happy about Baby Brother kissing the handsome prince. Not a good choice of bedtime story you told him there.”

“I told him nothing else would happen!” Callum said, as hot tears creeped down his face. He felt ashamed. “I told him I was going to marry Whitney and that would be the end of it!”

Ben snorted a laugh, then clutched his nose at the pain it caused. “Apparently you can lie to your brother about as well as you can lie to yourself.”

“How is he?” Callum asked, and he knew the second he said it that it was the wrong thing to say.

“How is HE?” Ben asked incredulously, “Half my face is practically splattered on Keanu’s spanner belt back at the Arches and you want to know how badly Stuart grazed his lumping paws when he was trying to knock my lungs out through my nostrils?

“That’s not how I meant it,” Callum replied, running his fingers through his hair. Why did the things he say never come out right? He clenched his fists in loathing for himself. “I meant I know you can take care of yourself in a fight, and you’re in a bad way. So, what’s he like?”

“Not a hair out of place.”

“Ben! Look you need to be careful. He won’t just use his fists to get you out the way. If he’s got injuries and goes to the police…” Callum said, a host of scenarios running through his head, smashing against his brain. He felt a lump in his throat sink all the way down to his feet, which couldn’t stop moving.

He only realised he was still tightly gripping his hair when he felt a softer touch there. He hadn’t even seen Ben come closer and now he was reaching up to bring Callum’s hand down. The exertion of the act took his toll and Ben lent his head against Callum’s shoulder, taking deep breaths every few seconds. While his left hand was still tightly linked with Ben’s, Callum lifted his right hand to gently rub circles in the nape of the other man’s neck, playing teasingly with the soft hairs that grew there.

“Ididnthithim,” Ben said, although to Callum it just sounded like a mumble. He asked him to repeat it. Ben squinted his eyes in pain as he freed his mouth from Callum’s shoulder. “I said I didn’t hit him. I just let myself be his human punching bag.”

“Why?” Callum asked. Though he was pleased that Stuart couldn’t play any further games, the point stood that Ben didn’t defend himself when he was more than capable of doing so.

“Well, not only is purple very much my colour, but I wanted to show him.”

“Show him what?”

“That I’m not going anywhere. He can’t punch me away, think me away or scare me away. If I want to talk to you, I will. If I want to kiss you on the cheek in the middle of the market, I’ll do that too. And if I want to have my hands down your pants in the park, then there’s nothing that’s going to stop me, including your tragedy of a brother,” Ben said with a grin on his face. This part of him was addictive, Callum thought. This determined streak that made him feel desired and special. “Well, there’s quite a few reasons while that last one might not happen at certain times of the day. I’m not sure either of us would feel comfortable with me getting you off while Denise and Linda are enjoying a coffee and a 99 on the bench next to us!”

“You should’ve hit him back,” Callum said in a whisper, moving his hand higher now as he brushed his fingers through Ben’s hair. He loved his brother, most of the time anyway. He just started to feel like they were getting closer again, but this felt like they’d now taken twenty steps back.

“Didn’t want to ruin my hands, did I? At least they’re in good nick, about the only parts of me that aren’t sore. I figured I might need them. I do enjoy working with my hands,” he replied salaciously and lifted his head to peck Callum quickly on the underside of his chin. It was intimate and plagued with feeling. “Plus, I thought if he felt like he’d done his job and kicked and punched me out of your life, then there’d be no follow up. For me or for you.”

Callum felt his heart twitch. He’d done it for him, at least partly. Ben didn’t want Callum to get hurt so he’d let himself be battered to defend both of them. To protect who they were and what they had.

He couldn’t help himself, he gently put his hand on Ben’s chin and leaned down to kiss him. There was a tenderness there that wasn’t there in that night at the park, but the feeling was the same. Callum’s soul felt alive with colour and was flashing through his body. He never wanted this feeling to go away.


End file.
